


Forever, I Am Yours

by Kroissant, Star_on_a_Staff



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 13k fanfic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Rollercoaster, F/M, bring out the tissues!, felannie wedding!, gilbert redemption, listen to Lifesize by A Fine Frenzy (main theme of wedding)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kroissant/pseuds/Kroissant, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_on_a_Staff/pseuds/Star_on_a_Staff
Summary: Today was the most important day of her life.And her father—bearing the important duty by walking her down the aisle and giving her to the dashing groom—was not coming.Presenting: the long-awaited Felannie wedding! (w/ Gilbert + Rodrigue)Collaboration w/ the amazing Star_on_a_StaffDedicated to @eiarondo from Twitter!
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 7
Kudos: 83





	Forever, I Am Yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [@eiarondo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%40eiarondo).



> This is a fanfic my good friend, Star, and I have worked diligently since the beginning of February!
> 
> This story is strongly dedicated to the wonderful artist at Twitter, @eiarondo!!  
> (and to the readers: you may know them as the ones to draw felannie in their wedding outfits!)
> 
> I just want to express my deepest gratitude on that fantastic picture, and to do that, here we present you 13k story full of felannie goodness!!
> 
> Please check out their Twitter!  
> Here are the following links for the pictures that heavily inspired us to write this:
> 
> https://twitter.com/eiarondo/status/1216026055523229696  
> https://twitter.com/eiarondo/status/1224014442737782787
> 
> Please enjoy and have fun!

* * *

Annette stares at her reflection in the mirror.

Taking a step back, she smiles faintly as she looks on.

She was dressed in the most elaborate and extravagant white gown, with floral patterning on her long sleeves and a shining, shimmering crown atop her head, one that could rival that of a princess. Her usual, wavy orange locks were tied up in a braided updo, customarily for the nobility, and a long, lustrous veil cascading to her torso—here she was, all primped and polished from top to bottom.

Like many girls her age, Annette had always dreamt of meeting the man of her dreams, her ‘knight in shining armor’.

In an unexpected turn, she met Felix.

Legitimate scion to House Fraldarius, and her housemate of seven years in the Blue Lions. Once students in the Officers’ Day, they grew close and soon after the war against the Adrestian Empire (and thus, completely demolishing the reign of the late Emperor Edelgard), Annette and Felix remained in touch.

Felix returns to his home, followed by Annette, who was quick to assist him.

Naturally, the pair bonded and worked well, and eventually became the other’s emotional support.

Under Felix’s leadership and Annette’s infectious cheer, the Fraldarius territory prospered immensely. Their people and even the soldiers praised the pair’s natural compatibility, calling them a match made in heaven.

In the eyes of many, it was painfully obvious that the pair was hopelessly in love.

If it were not for the overwhelming support and encouragement by his childhood friends, Felix finally got the courage to bend down on his knee and propose to his bubbly girlfriend of two years—under the splendor of the full moon and the fallen snow, and inside of his family’s botanical garden.

And now here they are, back to the place where it all started, at Garreg Mach Monastery.

Thanks to Seteth and the new Archbishop, the newly-engaged couple were permitted to hold their wedding ceremony in the new and refurbished cathedral.

It was sure to be a small, private event with friends and family all expected to attend.

Annette inhales a deep breath, closing her eyes and forcing a grin to spread across her lips.

In less than three hours, she would be walking down the aisle, bashful yet confident, and be welcomed by Felix at the end of the altar with his hand reaching out to her.

Aside from the nervous jitters bubbling in her stomach, deep down, this was what Annette had ever wanted and more. All those girly talks with her friends during teatime, her first accidental kiss with Felix, their little dance to practice for the Heron Whitecup, their intimate exchange of letters after the evacuation, to their fateful reunion with their friends, and Felix inviting her to his family estate has led her to this path of boundless love and excitement.

The next chapter in her life was unfolding quickly—a bright, promising future together with the love of her life.

Straying off from the mirror, Annette saunters to a nearby window. With her arm, she lightly brushes the long, teal curtains away to take a peek at the window. She could see a crowd, spotting many familiar faces, making their way through the bridge and into the cathedral.

Annette places a hand to her chest, gripping it into a fist.

As she stands there, her mind drifts elsewhere.

For as long as she could remember, she was always putting her family on a pedestal. Her mother, father, and uncle were everything to her, her top priority before anything else.

She was there when her mother was at her lowest and in her depressive state, enrolling at the School of Sorcery and working tirelessly to get a recommendation letter to Garreg Mach and later working twice as harder to search for her long-lost father who was rumored to be sighted in the area. Even when she was no longer with her friends, she didn’t stop and rest, no, she kept on going and worked laboriously to assist her Uncle in war briefings before finally setting off with Mercie to the promised reunion...and having a gut feeling that her father might be there as well.

Up until her twenty-first birthday, Annette never made the effort to make her own selfish choices.

All that ever mattered to her was her family’s happiness and nothing more.

Such a mentality contaminated her greatly. Forcing herself to keep moving, to keep going, all for the sake of her family. With a mindset like that, it’s not much of a surprise that Annette felt a little hopeless, and lost. After miraculously reuniting with her school friends, she realized...she didn’t have a clear map of her future.

But then life gave her Felix.

Just like that, everything changed.

Annette grew stronger, fighting battle after battle and escaping death countless times. And Felix would be there, ready to help her every step of the way, never letting her go and keeping her grounded.

Over time, the thought of staying with him became something she secretly wishes to see through.

When the war was over, and the moment came for her to make her big decision—Annette chose Felix.

It was difficult at first, knowing that she was betraying her family for her own happiness.

And yet, to her surprise, her mother and uncle didn’t seem to mind one bit.

In fact, they were beyond delighted and were quick to approve.

 **“It is your future, sweetheart,”** Annette remembers her mother speaking to her in her bedroom, on the day she was to depart with Felix to his home, **“If this is what you want, take it. If it makes you happy, never let it go. Life’s too short and it’s not so easy. But I promise you, you will be thanking your lucky stars because soon, it would all be worth it,”**

Recalling the memory, Annette lowers her gaze, her eyes shimmering.

She tries hard to calm herself, to ease her breathing, and hoping for the best that her tears may not fall lest it would ruin Mercedes and Hilda’s two-hour labor perfecting her makeup.

“I want this...I really do...” She says softly, truly confident with her words. “I want...to be with Felix,”

An image of her father and his stone-cold visage resurfaces.

Annette irks, and her heart begins to sink.

The bubbling energy in her stomach simmers, contracting and twisting into a knot.

—It was a feeling she knew all too well.

When Annette looks up a little too quickly, she imagines her father’s broad back in front of her.

A sorrowful scene appears and she returns to her twelve-year-old self, transporting back to her past. The beating silence becomes a dreadful reminder of _him_ leaving the family as she yells at the top of her lungs to come back, remembering the tight-vine grip her uncle had on her as he too fights back tears, and her mother’s gross sobbing in the background..and all she could do, what she could really do at the time was stand, stare, and cry at the dead of night.

Her fear of abandonment, her fear of isolation, and feeling of hopelessness.

Soon, it all comes crashing down on her.

Annette turns completely frozen still, her heart racing and her breathing becoming uneven.

She drops to her knees, her wedding gown gracefully flopping along with her. She doesn’t hear the door opening nor the frantic shouts of her dear friends calling out her name—Mercedes, Ingrid, Lysithea, Hilda, Bernadetta, and even her mother running straight for her, arriving just in time to watch her breakdown.

Annette refuses to hear their words of comfort.

She doesn’t say anything back.

Instead, she lets her eyes wander off to the back corner of the room, to a desk full of cosmetics and her wedding bouquet. Hidden in the lace strings of orange and blue, and of floral perfume bottles was an open envelope.

A letter addressed to her by none other than her beloved father.

Gustave Eddie Dominic, the middle-aged man who walked from her life, the one whom Annette aimlessly chased and scouted for many long years, who she wishes to see again and hopefully bring back home, and who was expectant to walk her down the aisle and give her to the dashing groom.

In all her life, Annette told herself that her father had his shortcomings. Up until now, she never had the heart to blame him...firmly believing that she was the one at fault.

But this time, it was different.

Pent up anger, misery, and heartache—it was always there inside of her, blending well with the false smiles she was so accustomed to wearing, and even now, it didn’t go away.

She hid it without trouble, though it got difficult as the years went on. It eventually became obvious by Felix, Mercie, and her other friends who were able to read right through her.

At this moment, it bails on her.

All of it goes spiraling out of control, and she’s wide awake to the painful truth.

“...Father,” Annette hiccups, struggling to keep herself together...only to crumble down.

Today was the most important day of her life.

And her father—bearing the important duty by walking her down the aisle and giving her to the dashing groom—was not coming.

* * *

Word spreads quickly to the grand wedding at Garreg Mach.

Of course, the attendees helping to assemble and organize the ceremony and reception were given a long list of many notable names.

Naturally, the bride’s mother and uncle would be there.

So does Sylvain Jose of House Gautier and Ingrid Brandl of House Galatea, who fill in the empty chairs reserved for the groom’s absent family.

The same goes for the bride’s oldest friend, Mercedes von Martritz, and the young head of House Gaspard, Ashe Ubert, who happens to be a member of the tightly-knitted Blue Lions.

It soon became a big deal when it was confirmed that the Savior King, Dimitri Alexandre Bladdiyd would be making an appearance along with his loyal vassal, Dedue Molinaro.

But that’s not all.

The new acclaimed king of Almyra, Claude von Riegan would be there, along with many of his friends from the Golden Deer. The same goes for the Black Eagles, with the remaining members being granted an invitation to come.

Undoubtedly, Archbishop Byleth would be there to officiate...then again, why wouldn’t she?

For the most part, it seems nobody except for the bride and a few of her friends was aware of a certain person's lack of presence.

But time was running out.

Once the ceremony begins, all eyes and ears would take notice.

If that happens, it would already be too late to stop it.

Rumors flare and spawn like wildfire.

In spite of the highest probability of success, the wedding itself would surely be ridiculed and pitied by nobles and historians.

* * *

Two and a half hours.

That was all Felix needed to change the tides. Leaving his friends to stall the growing audience, he secretly heads off to a nearby exit, determined to locate that stubborn old bastard and give him a piece of his mind.

He exerts more pressure into his legs, paying no heed to the wandering, curious eyes of a few bystanders and guards patrolling he hurriedly rushes past them.

His first instinct was to go and visit the dining hall where the afterparty reception was to be held.

Nothing there except for a bunch of caterers preparing for the big feast.

Felix frowns, and without missing a beat, takes off.

Next was the open lawn near the classrooms.

Still nothing.

Turning his heel, Felix sprints away once more.

From what Ingrid told him, the letter was supposedly delivered under the bride’s dressing room, around the time when he, Annette, and their friends were putting on their outfits. That was fifteen minutes ago.

Damn it, _he_ couldn’t have left in a hurry, could he?

Felix looks around, his heart beating twice as fast as he rushes through the corridor dividing the classrooms and reception hall.

A blur of fiery orange and silver catches his eye.

His mouth opens partially, eyes widening as he abruptly comes to a halt, whipping his head sharply.

Gritting his teeth, Felix sharply whips his head and picks up the pace again. He narrows his eyes, his fists sweaty and gripped tightly as he recognizes an awfully familiar figure about to mount on his trusty steed.

At long last, he found him.

“ARE YOU REALLY THIS SELFISH?” Felix’s vicious bark resonates loudly throughout the area, startling horses inside the stables and a few stragglers at close range. He makes his way toward the unflinching ginger-haired man, dead set on pouncing and punching the living daylights out of him.

Suddenly, dear sweet Annette comes to mind and his mind goes blank for a moment. He pictures her giving him a knowing look and a curve of her pleasant smile, one that he loves so. And as much as Felix wants to challenge this foolish bastard to a duel, doing so wasn’t a good time.

Not when his darling bride worked hard to make this entire wedding perfect from the ground-up, and carefully commissioning Hilda to make his the military-themed suit (with the added trinkets and metals all bearing his family crest) exclusively for him—the groom, to wear for their big day.

Felix steadies his breathing, his fists still clenched tight.

Right now, all he needs to do is be calm, composed, and politely convince the man to return to the cathedral.

“Your one and only daughter is getting married today and you have the fucking nerve to just walk away and disappear from her just like that?” Felix snaps, his voice on edge. But of course, his rage still blinds him. He had lost control of the wild, untameable inside of him, his blood spiking slightly above normal. “Tell me, what kind of a sick joke are you playing at, old man?”

Felix waits for a minute to let the silence settle in. But even then, the eeriness starts to get on his nerves.

Growing irritated, he takes another step forward.

"You better have a fucking good explanation behind all this," He growls, glaring venomously at the man who would soon become his father-in-law. He slides his white-gloved hand along the handle of his decorative sword strapped to his black, leather belt and keeps it there. His jaw tightens, his amber eyes directly burning a hole through Gilbert's skull. “I won’t hesitate to drag you forcefully back into the cathedral,”

It was true.

At this point, Felix wasn’t afraid to take any risks to get this man to come back. Thinking it over, he felt secretly relieved that he didn’t bring any of his friends, most notably Sylvain or Ingrid, who would likely be the ones to hold him back and be the voices of reason.

Felix spots Gilbert fidgeting with the satchel he possessed. He narrows his eyes, watching closely to his heavy, lethargic movements. In the background, the remaining guards and stableboys have left the scene to give them space.

He waits a little longer, tapping his foot impatiently against the soiled ground. Any second now, there should be a reaction.

Finally, he gets it.

One would expect a low, pathetic murmur of apology or a continuous clash of glares...yet, none of them comes up.

Instead, Felix was offered with the rarest sight of a vulnerable-looking Gilbert.

For a highly renowned knight like him, it was surprising to find his guard completely down. The expression on his face was unreadable, though Felix could’ve sworn there was something there, akin to remorse.

Gilbert sags his shoulders, patting lightly on the neck of his horse. After a good minute, he eventually forces himself to walk steadily to the well-dressed groom. He cranes his head, slowly moving to his right and keeping his gaze high to a certain degree.

Felix huffs, putting a hand on his hip. Right away, he knew exactly what the older man was staring fondly at. From where they stood was a perfect view of the cathedral and its impressive pillars.

“I never meant to leave her and her mother all alone…” Gilbert croaks, his noticeably heavy and brittle voice piercing the cold stillness of the dense air. “I never meant to make her miserable nor cause any troubles…” A short pause. “Indeed, she is my daughter...and yet, I am no father. I am only a fool who abandoned his family...I only wish for the best for my darling girl who deserves the world more than anything else,”

Listening to his speech, Felix frowns deeply.

“How bold of you to admit,” Felix replies, crossing his arms and tipping his head to the side. “If you really want what’s best for your daughter, why don’t you come with me and be with her? It’s her special day, and she would like to see you there—”

Gilbert shakes his head. “That, I cannot do,” He brings up, interrupting the latter. “It is not so easy. My past, you see, still haunts me,” Closing his eyes shut, he breathes a heavy sigh.

He imagines Annette as a twelve-year-old, peering up at him with her big, blue shining eyes and a wide smile that could melt the snow. He imagines her tackling him whenever he was to come back from a mission briefing at the castle and remembers how adorable she would pout when her small, chubby arms couldn’t wrap around his thick torso. For many long years, Gilbert had been present in her childhood, proudly watching and raising her since she was a newborn baby.

“Nine years ago, I left my home to help defend the kingdom castle. As you know, it was around the same time when the Great Tragedy of Duscur took place," Gilbert notices Felix tense but chooses not to question. "When word came that the Late King Lambert was killed, the guilt of not being able to protect him scarred me. No matter how many times I tried, I couldn't bring myself to return home,”

“I still wrote letters to Annette and her mother, but could never deliver them…” Gilbert goes on, staring blankly at his boots. “More years have passed and when I heard that my little girl was coming to the academy, I knew it was already too late,”

A soft smile materializes on his lips as he remembers the first time he had a chance of an encounter with her—while patrolling around the campus to usher in the new batch of students into their quarters, Annette was accompanied by a girl who he assumes to be a friend of hers, smiling earnestly and jubilant.

“She has grown up so fast, and didn’t look like the little one I knew so fondly…” Gilbert continues, collecting his hands together and pressing the knuckles close to his temple. “I couldn’t bear to see her as much as I long to...her face reminds me so much of my home, and the woman I loved. And praying was all I could do. After my patrols and finishing up my duties, I would pray...pray to the four heavenly saints and the holy Goddess who watches above us...and ask of her to spare my sweet child, wife, and brother from the danger lurking amiss,”

Felix stayed quiet, still listening to the sorrowful woes of an older man whose life has been nothing but guilt and whispering regrets. For some strange reason, an image of his late father, Rodrigue, comes to mind. Felix chews on his bottom lip, looking away to avoid eye contact.

Not that Gilbert would ever suspect it as he was too occupied with the thoughts of his own.

“She’s grown up now, that little sparrow of mine,” Gilbert speaks after a moment of silence, chuckling lowly as he refers his daughter to her childhood nickname. “As for me...well, I am nothing but a shell of the father she once knew,” He sighs, long and heavy. “I belong in the past, where I am entitled to be forgotten…”

He lifts his chin and directs his sights to the groom before him.

“Felix Hugo Fraldarius,” Gilbert addresses, “You, my boy...you belong in her future,” This time, the deliverance of his words are absolute, and bursting with confidence. In his tired, gray-blue eyes, the cloudiness of uncertainty and sentimental luxure evokes yet another indescribable emotion. “You can give my daughter everything that I’ve failed to give her...and be the one who shall grant her a life of happiness…”

Felix lets the words weigh in on him, averting his eyes back on the older man.

Gilbert—by all means, was a good man with quite the baggage on him. Starting with how he believes to be the one accountable for a crime he never committed, abandoning his family and changing his name entirely in hopes to get a second chance in life, seeking refuge at Garreg Mach to receive some form of salvation while at the same time, truthfully admitting to still being haunted by the ghosts of his past.

A treacherous, and exhausting cycle that never seems to end.

Like many of the soldiers born and raised in the Kingdom of Faerghus, they were taught to endure, survive, and serve their country; a foul, and revolting mindset that would be passed down to the next generation, all bearing the heavy burden to carry the torch of their predecessors.

To die like a true knight was considered to be the greatest honor among their people.

Felix’s late brother and father were prime examples of such crude teachings. They didn’t have time to properly mourn or take a moment to reflect and realize just how utterly sickening the entire system of knighthood could really be beneath the layers—nothing more so than a tragic narrative of devotion, codes of honor, and chivalry. Brainwashed to stand mighty, endure, and serve their sole purpose of existence in this world—and that is to simply protect the next King as if their life depended on it.

To Felix, such a mentality was taken quite literally and to the extreme.

For Gilbert’s case, his longing to be atoned for his ‘sins’ rests on the shoulders of Dimitri, whom he continues to perform duties for, in spite of his status as a veteran knight. Though the old man was able to somewhat come to peace by effectively guiding the young Princeling into his rightful path as the next ruler, it wasn't enough to keep him at bay...knowing full well that all of his life to effortlessly assist and guide Dimitri came at a steep price of leaving his family and his daughter for the second time.

And now, it was happening again.

His deepest fear of disappointing his daughter has resurfaced, and just like before, all Gilbert could do—or what he could really do, was walk away and possibly disappear from her life. He has fallen from grace, and there was too much shame, too much self-loathing...and frankly, it was heartbreaking to see.

Felix wouldn’t admit it out loud but he did hold a bit of empathy for the stalwart knight. Still, his decision to not attend the wedding without properly consulting his daughter (and leaving her a useless note when the event was dangerously soon) did not leave him off the hook.

Short, subtle glances are exchanged between the two men, with barely any words to be spoken of.

The boiling anger has simmered, and Felix once again found his voice. He looks up, staring acutely at the knight.

“You say you want nothing more but to make your daughter happy,” He starts, his brows furrowed. “Does it hold true even now?”

“Yes,” Gilbert immediately answers, nodding firmly. “It still does,”

Felix plants his hands on his hips, tipping his head to offer a dubious look. “Then why waste effort to leave, if you know the consequence of it?”

Gilbert grimaces, looking away. “I…” He clamps his mouth shut and buries his face into the palm of his head.

Felix sighs, shaking his head. He peeks at the ground and for a brief moment, pictures his fiancee in all her wonderful glory. Just thinking about her made him feel stronger, and assured of what he was about to say next.

“Annette Fantine, the scion of House Dominic,” Felix begins, sounding mellow and calm. An honest smile creeps in as he recalls the many wonderful traits of his lover. “She is beautiful, strong, resilient, stubborn, selfless, remarkable. An over-the-top and passionate achiever, who would go above and beyond to save her friends and army from harm...who won’t back down from a fight, and is gifted with the voice of an angel.”

“Your daughter has stolen my heart eight years ago, and I know for a fact that she’s the one I want to be with until the end of my days,” Felix confesses unashamedly with his head held high. His amber eyes shine brightly yet softly to some degree, but the truth of his words rests solely on his soft, and assertive tone. “She is flawlessly perfect in every sensible way,”

Gilbert casts him a curious glance, looking almost amused by what he just declared.

Felix brushes this aside and steps forward.

“In the eight years that I’ve been with your daughter, never once did she ever bring up your faults or being ashamed of having you as her father. When she does speak of you, her eyes radiate like fireworks, and from the many stories she shares with me of you, most—or if not, all of them, would be of you as her childhood hero, someone who she aspires to reach and be like one day. Annette loves you so much with every fiber of her being,”

Felix catches himself, taking another sharp breath as he pushes himself to go on with his speech. “Between you and me, Annette’s been waking up from nightmares or crying whilst she’s asleep,” He reveals, veering at the soiled ground. “She mentions quite often of you...and how her dreams would be on repeat, of her trying to stop you from leaving on that night, and then later blaming herself for not being strong enough at the time…”

Gilbert gulps thickly, looking ever so miserable.

“I agree that Annette deserves a chance of happiness...and I swear to you, right here and now, that I’ll do whatever I can in my power to make her the happiest woman alive,” Felix declares passionately. “But more than anything, she deserves to have this wedding,” A pause. “But she can’t go through with it without you there to show her the way,”

A soft whimper reaches his ears and Felix does his best to ignore it.

With a deep sigh, he musters a heartbreaking smile. “She needs you right now,” He says faintly, pocketing his hands. “And you should know that she has long forgiven your mistakes. You are more than just a father to her. You were her hero, and to this day, you still hold a special place in her heart,”

Retreating one step back, Felix gives Gilbert one more look. “The least you could do is be there for her,” He advises, firm yet encouraging. "Do it before it's too late," His last few words come out as a fleeting whisper, meant to disappear like the wind, but Gilbert hears it with his carefully trained ears.

Gilbert watches the young groom politely give him a curt nod of his head and just like that, walks away in silence. He looks on, his eyes on his retreating figure, unwavering.

When Felix finally turns around the corner and completely vanishes, to the cathedral most likely, Gilbert dips his head, burying his face deep into his hands and explodes into a sobbing mess.

* * *

Away from the prying eyes of curious onlookers, the friends of the bride and groom collectively gathered together outside of the cathedral, closest to the right-wing where the benches were stationed to be.

“Almost an hour left until the ceremony,” Ignatz reminds the group as he read off from the clock tower nearby.

“What should we do?” Ashe suddenly exclaims, getting anxious. “At this rate, the wedding could be a disaster!”

Lysthiea rolls her eyes. “It’s not the issue of should, but rather, what else _can_ we do?” She points it out to him.

A flood of agreements pitches in on her side.

“There’s gotta be something we can do,” Caspar joins in, scratching the back of his head. “Damn it! I can’t just be standing here doing nothing!”

Bernadetta nods meekly. “Should we consult with the bride about this?” She squeaks, speaking from behind Petra and Dorothea.

Ingrid waves her hand dismissively. “Right now might not be such a good idea,” She reasons, frowning slightly as she becomes reminded of Annette’s poor state mere moments ago. “Mercedes and Lady Dominic are doing what they can to ease her worries. Asking her would only pile in more stress,”

Sylvain sighs heavily. “Always the party-pooper,” He yawns, and puts his arms behind his head. “Hmm...so how are we doing this? I’m thinking of something scandalous,”

At this, many of the girls, Dimitri, Ingrid, Dedue, and even Ashe shoots him a vicious glare.

“You’re always thinking of something scandalous,” Ingrid scolds, pulling at his ear. “Do something befitting of your ranking for once in your life! At least for Felix and Annette’s sake!”

“She’s right,” Dorothea replies in merriment. “Perhaps something endearing that might enlighten the audience for a change?”

“Something...endearing?” Marianne mumbles, blushing. “Like what, Dorothea?”

“Oh! Maybe have me and someone recite the entire Officer’s Academy anthem or something?” Rafael offers his suggestion, which only earned him a few low chuckles and confusing looks.

“As ‘flattering’ as that may sound, I recommend bedazzling the people with some proper entertainment,” Lorenz suggests, contributing to the plan. “Perhaps include some sort of choir in the mix?”

“I second this notion!” Ferdinand claims, raising his hand high. “It may buy us some more time, including the bride and groom, to prepare before anyone could suspect the current situation,”

Hilda frowns deeply. "Please don't tell me it would require us to do actual work," She complains and proceeds to show off her silk, orange-colored bridesmaid dress which she, and a few of the other girls were wearing. “If it does, then count me out! I’ve worked many nights to make the ceremonial outfits you are all wearing, and as the fashion designer for this wedding, I deserve a break!”

A hand was raised, belonging to none other than Linhardt. “I agree,” He says in a sultry tone, “A good rest before tackling an hour-long wedding would be wonderful,”

Not long after, the growing mutterings in the group increased tenfold.

“I am liking to do some dancing if that has not been presented yet,” Petra brings up, smiling eagerly. “The exuberant dancing for the Fire God may do some wonders,”

"Perhaps we should address this issue to my brother and the Archbishop?" Flayn suggests rather innocently. "They might be willing to assist if we can explain it to them,"

Leonie frowned, shaking her head. "Even if we do that, that might cause a bit hysteria among the staff who are working under them," 

After contemplating for a while, Sylvain snaps his fingers. “Should I make a public apology to all of my exes?” He grins ruefully, “That’s sure to keep everyone occupied for at least two and a half hours—”

A loud, harmonious “NO” was unanimously erupted within the group, especially from his peers from the Blue Lions who were already accustomed to his utter nonsense.

Once again, Ingrid tugs on his ear again, which was quickly reddening at her abuse. “We should find a more ethical and less slanderous distraction to keep the crowd busy at the very least—”

“Hey, is that Felix over there?” Leonie interrupts her, pointing a finger to the approaching silhouette. "What's he doing loitering around?"

All eyes turned their sights in the same direction, and to their amazement, there he was.

Sylvain whistles. “Would you look at that? Our dashing groom’s returned!” He comments, clapping his hands in a mocking way, all the while avoiding the lethal scowl coming from Ingrid. “So, didya got Gilbert to say yes or what?”

Everyone leaned a little closer, waiting in high anticipation for Felix’s answer.

To their dismay, all they received was nothing more but a frustrated look and a slow shake of his head.

“I stopped him in the act, talked some sense out of him but…” Felix trails off, massaging his temple. “It’s all up to him now. Whether he does show up or not, it’s his decision now,”

Dimitri sags his tense shoulders. “I see…” He utters, turning away.

“What happens now?” Ashe chimes in, worry etched in his voice. “With Gilbert out of the plan, who’s going to be the one to walk Annette down the aisle?”

“Wasn’t there something about an Uncle?” Rafael proposes, shedding some positive light in their midst of troubles.

“You mean Baron Dominic?” Dimitri speaks up, and when he gets a nod from the latter, he frowns. “That could be a possibility, but…”

“It might not have an emotional impact in the long run,” Dorothea explains, running a hand through her luscious, brown locks. “The person who will be walking the bride is important, second to the groom at the altar,”

Dedue checks the time on the clock tower and inhales. “We are running out of time,” He announces, hanging his head. “In fifteen minutes, we will be expected to get in position,”

More low mutterings could be heard among their friends, save for the poor groom who appears to be frustrated on what to do next.

From the corner of his eye, Dimitri notices the new King of Almyra surprisingly quiet. Luckily, he wasn’t the only one to notice this sudden change as a certain pink-haired woman took notice of this.

“Claude, you okay? It’s not like you to be this quiet,” Hilda comments, nudging him on the elbow.

Blinking his eyes, Claude turns to face her and rewards her with his usual, impish smirk. His hazel eyes were twinkling with a familiar tinge of mischievousness, and it was then that Hilda knew what was about to come.

“Do you have a plan?” She asks him, purposely raising her voice to earn the attention of the rest of their friends. Even Felix and Dimitri raised their heads, quick to avert their focus at one of the former leaders of the three houses and listen attentively to what he might say.

Claude looks around, his toothy smirk that was infamous for his clever, and well-thought trickery in their school days, has sparked a new sense of feeling. In this time of desperation, such a look rekindled a beacon of hope.

“Gather ‘round, my friends,” Claude begins, beckoning them to a little come closer. He lengthens the size of his grin, reaching from ear to ear, as he itches to unveil his plan of action. “This is gonna be a biggie, and I’m going to need all of you for this to work,”

* * *

“Breathe in, breathe out,”

Annette did as she was told, forcing herself to breathe deeply. She shifts her eyes back and forth at her mother and old friend who took turns trying to calm her down. At the moment, Mercedes assisted with calming down her nerves with her mother right there beside her, with her hand affectionately placed on her right shoulder for support.

“Breathe in, and out,”

Annette inhales another breath in, repeating after Mercedes as she was the first to release. Behind her, she could feel her mother’s warm breath tickling her neck, slowly easing her.

“...Aaaand there we go,” Mercedes finally says, smiling. “All better now,”

Annette smiles, nodding. “Thanks so much for this, Mercie,” She thanks, relaxing her tense muscles. “I feel a little lighter now,”

Mercedes giggles. “Good, good,” She rises from the chair, collecting her hands over her lavender dress. As the maid of honor, it wasn’t a surprise that Hilda went out of her way to make sure the older woman differentiated herself from the bridesmaids, but at the same time, making sure she wasn’t outshining the bride.

“Oh, my! Time is flying fast,” She comments, her eyes set on the old grandfather clock across the room. Quickly, she peers over her shoulder, a bit frazzled by how much her breathing exercises had taken up. “Annie, I’m so sorry,”

“It’s not your fault, Mercie, really,” Annette assures her, standing up as well. She takes Mercedes’s hands and squeezes them. “I really owe you big time for helping me,”

Mercedes smiles at this. She checks on the time again, then looks back at her best friend. “Would you be alright without me?”

Annette smiles and shakes her head. "No, it's fine," She says and gestures over to her mother. "I’ve got my mother here with me. You should get going. Everybody must be outside, waiting already,”

Mercedes nods, “Okay,” Wrapping her arms around her, Mercedes envelops her best friend tightly. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” After giving her a soft kiss on the cheek, she scurries off and into the hallways to find the rest of the group.

Once the clicking sound of the door was heard, Annette finally released a big, long sigh.

A warm hand rubs her back, alarming her.

Turning around, Annette smiles sadly. “Thank you, mother,”

Francine mirrors her grin. “That’s what I’m here for, sweetie,” She replies, “Just remember, nervous jitters are very normal,”

Annette giggles. “I know, I know,”

Francine snorts. “You say you know, but you tend to forget,” She points out, only to smile again as she spots her daughter giving her an adorable pout. Francine laughs and with her other hand, proceeds to playfully pinch the bride’s small nose. “You may be twenty-six-years-old, but you will forever be my little girl,”

Annette cracks a smile, only for it to wane as the endearing nickname recalls a certain memory.

Thankfully, Francine catches this and doesn’t hesitate to address it. “You okay, honey?”

“Yes, I’m fine,”

There was that fake smile she mastered so perfectly.

Francine gives her a look. “Annette dear, please tell me what’s the matter. You clearly look troubled,” A pause. “Is this about your father?”

The moment Annette’s eyes went wide and her cheeks grew flustered, the older woman knew she had hit the jackpot. “It is, isn’t it?”

Annette clears her throat, keeping her smile intact. There’s no way her mother didn’t know about father not attending, right?

Unless…

“M-mother, I...umm, how—” Annette pauses, blushing as she stumbles halfway through her sentence. After reclaiming her voice, she starts again. “How did you know?”

Francine simply smiles. "I'm your mother, sweetie," She says and moves in to carefully tuck a loose strand of hair behind the shell of her daughter's left ear. "I gave birth to you, raised you, and have watched you grow up into a gorgeous beauty,” Her slightly, dull and tired brown eyes linger on her daughter’s powdery face, and after a minute, manages to still put on a light-hearted grin. “And I know that look anywhere. Whenever you wear it, I know it’s something related to your father,”

Annette blushes, a little embarrassed that her mother could see right through her. “But do you know?”

“Of what?”

Annette gulps and looks down on the wooden flooring. "That father...is not coming?"

She listens for something, anything as she waits for some sort of response to come out from her mother.

Yet, the silence spoke volumes to her.

Slowly, Annette peers up to face her mother.

From the way how her brows are knitted together, and the slight dent of her mouth, it was a clear indication that her mother was disappointed. It was safe to say that after seeing this, Annette could feel her blood beginning to boil as well.

Ten more minutes left and the ceremony was to begin.

The person whom she was looking forward to seeing the most wasn’t here.

Yes, she was mad but...was she surprised though?

He’s done this before in the past and has continued to do so when she was able to get enrolled in the Officer's Academy, and when she was able to find him, she gets the silent treatment or ignored entirely, and again it happens when they were reunited. There would be a few silver lining here and there, as, during the war, war briefings were common, and Annette did her best to help strategize with her father, and include her input whenever needed.

His prideful would-be smiles and low chuckles whenever she did something as simple as identifying the enemy on the large map was enough to make her feel over the moon. She cherishes those rare moments, and sincerely hoped for it to continue after the war.

...But it didn’t.

Just like when he disappeared in her childhood, he chose his duty to serve the new King over his family—the very same ones who long for him to return. Still, Annette was persistent to still make him involved in her life, going as far as sneaking an extra invitation inside Dimitri’s envelopes to give to her father, and praying to the heavenly saints and Sothis above that he might see it and at least come to her wedding.

Needless to say, her plan worked out...only for it to backfire when hours before the ceremony was to begin, a note was slid through her dressing room door, addressed to her by none other than him.

Though it was anonymous, the familiar penmanship that would only belong to nobody else but her dearly beloved father, was what nailed the coffin for her. And it hurt, so damn much to know that no matter what she does—her achievements in school, unlocking her hidden talent in sorcery and mastering it effortlessly, leading her own army, finding her true love and getting married—it was still not enough to make him look at her in the eye, give her that earnest, awkward smile of his, and proudly congratulate her on a ‘good well done’.

So long will he keep avoiding her like this?

How long will he understand that all she wants from him is to be there and watch her go on to her next chapter in life? Was everything that she did thus far never good enough for him to take notice?

Just contemplating all of this left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She breathes out, looking up to the ceiling as she could feel a slight twinge inside her parched throat, choking her. When she dares to close her eyes and then open them, her vision is glossy. Her heart was hammering hard, only increasing her anxiety.

This wasn’t fair.

This wasn’t right at all.

Something warm is placed on her shoulder, causing her to stiffen.

Annette looks back at her mother and to her horror, she was smiling.

“Mother…” She croaks softly, “Will I ever be enough for Father?”

Francine slowly reaches out to gently caress her daughter’s left cheek. “Sweetie,” She began in a low, soothing voice. “You are _more_ than enough,”

Annette felt her heart twist at her words. She stares at her, tears threatening to spill out from her mascara eyes. “M-Mama?” She squeaks, unconsciously using the title she used to call her mother when she was a child.

Francine moves to place her forehead against hers. “Shh...it’s going to be okay now,”

Annette hiccups, shaking her head. “N-no...please don’t say that, _please_ ,”

“It’s going to be okay,” Francine assures her again, patting her But Annette could see it—the quivering of her bottom lip, how her ‘smile’ was strained, and the shining glow embedded in her brown eyes.

Her mother was a strong woman, possibly the strongest one she would ever meet. And despite hearing the bad news of her estranged husband not attending the wedding of their only daughter, here she was, still as tough as ever, fighting back the tears and keeping a smile etched on her face, the kind of smile with the power to ensure someone that everything was going to be alright.

 **“Sometimes, things must fall apart to make way for better things,”** Francine tells her, stroking her thumb along her daughter’s left cheek. “That’s life, you know. We’d never end up where we thought we would be but look at us. Look at where we are now,” With half-lidded eyes, she leans in to give Annette a soft peck on her forehead. “I’m so proud of you, and of all the things you’ve done. I’m so proud of who you are and what you’ve become,”

Instinctively, Francine wraps her arms around her daughter, stroking her fiery mane gently. “Just know that from here on out, whatever happens, if you ever feel lost or uncertain, that it’s okay to turn around and look back,” As she said those words, Francine smiles warmly. “You may be grown up, but my job as a mother is not yet over. And I will always be here with you,”

Annette nods meekly, sniffing as she reciprocates her mother’s embrace. “Thank you,” was all she could say, squeezing her mother tight and wishing never to let her go.

After that, that was it.

There was no further discussion about Gilbert anymore, nor was the supposed sadness and sorrow in the room.

Her mother’s powerful smile always did wonders to her, and today was no exception.

The abrupt knock on the door caught their attention, turning around just in time to find—

“Your Highness?” Francine blurts out, completely awed by the sudden celebrity appearance of their new King. “Oh my goodness! What in Sothis name are you doing here?”

“I humbly apologize for my disturbance,” Dimitri begins, smiling bashfully as he politely bows his head. “But I am here to escort the bride to the ceremony,”

At this, Annette frowns, not understanding the meaning of his words. “Escort me?”

The faint sounds of the church bells rang soundly high above the ceiling, flooding from the winding hallways, and into the dressing room. Annette squirms a little in her spot, her legs quaking as she suddenly realizes what was about to happen next. Emotions rippled across her face, the rush of excitement bringing color to her light, powdery cheeks. She tore her gaze from Dimitri to check on her mother, quite shaken and a little scared.

To her relief, the older woman keeps her radiant smile at bay.

Seeing this, Annette knew that she needed to be strong like her mother. In spite of her panicked state, she goes on to take a deep breath and then lets it out. Turning around, she reinforces a bright, genuine smile and does her best to raise her chin. “It’s going to be okay,” She mouths to her mother, followed shortly by a thumbs up.

Francine smiles warmly and reaches out to pinch one of her daughter’s chubby cheeks. “That’s my girl,”

Taking one step back, she carefully drapes the net of the long, floral-themed veil downwards, covering her daughter’s face. “Remember...I will be right behind you,” And pecks her one last time, this time on her button nose.

Annette nods firmly.

After sharing one last hug, Annette hurriedly snatches the wedding bouquet left on the mirror until finally joining Dimitri by the door.

Linking her right arm with his left, she sneaks a peek at her mother one last time before disappearing into the great hallways.

* * *

_Ba-bump._

_Ba-bump._

Dimitri guides her to a secret exit leading out into the outside left patio, with the sibling-like pair keeping in pace with one another.

_Ba-bump_

_Ba-bump_

She was suffocating; and with each passing second, it became difficult to breathe.

Her heart was pounding twice as fast, and as they were closing into the starting line of what was to be her five brief minutes of fame, it became clear to her that this was everything she could possibly want and more. And all she needed to do was to walk down the aisle, with her head held high, with or without her father to be the one to be there to help her, and meet Felix at the altar.

It was so simple to think about and yet, with each slow step, the more it was taking such a toll on her.

“Nervous jitters?”

Annette blinks, whirling her head to cast a glance at Dimitri who keeps his eyes trained ahead of their path. Unsurprisingly, he was handsomely dashing, with no traces of his heavy paladin suit of armor nor the large fur coat which would be hanging quite loosely behind his back.

The young King moves to look at her as well, his visage ever so kind and patient which reminds Annette of the good, old days when they used to be classmates together. His good left eye crinkles and another heart-throbbing grin steadily takes shape.

Annette gives him a sheepish look. “Is it really that obvious?”

Dimitri breaks into a fit of boisterous laughter, shattering the awkwardness between them. Hearing this, Annette felt a little more at ease, a little more like herself.

"I assure you, all will be well," Dimitri tells her, inspirited with the gentle reassurance he would often display to her. "And just for today, I shall be taking on the role as your big brother,"

Annette snorts at this. “That actually sounds pretty nice," She agrees and puts an extra spring in her next step.

Dimitri smiles at this, relieved to find her returning to her usual, upbeat self.

With her father connecting the two of them, it felt oddly pleasing to find their platonic relationship naturally evolving to something familial-like. A younger sister to privately goof around with, and just be a little more open about himself, be a little overprotective, and spoil her rotten...he found them all in Annette, and to be the one to escort her to what would be her biggest day of her life was definitely one he wouldn’t dream of passing up for the world.

As they cross the final step and are standing inches away from the colossal, wooden doors, time went still.

“Beyond this is your future,” Dimitri began, patting her hand lightly which was tucked over her elbow.

Annette smiles at his kind gesture and gives him a small peck on the cheek. “Thank you so much for leading me all the way here,” And as she slowly uncoils her touch away from his, she was surprised to find him tightening his grip.

“What is the matter, Annette?” Dimitri asks, with concern written all over his face.

“Oh, umm…” Annette blushes, looking away as she chuckles nervously.

“Were you planning to walk on your own through the aisle?”

Annette freezes in place. How did he know?

Then again, such a daring action was something she wasn’t afraid of committing. Ever since she was struck with the news of her father not coming, it became clear to her that it was best not to rely on her friends too much. This was a personal issue for her to deal with, after all. Walking by herself down the aisle may cause gossip among the nobility to spread, but surely it wouldn't be too big to harm her pride and name, right?

But to find herself getting caught red-handed, when moments before she would be stepping into a large room full of hundreds of eyes staring at her, made her realize how easily it could backfire on her.

“Ingrid and Mercedes told us everything,” Dimitri goes on to explain to her, keeping his tone of range as smooth as ever.

Annette lowers her head, feeling the rush of humiliation beginning to consume her.

“We are well-aware of the issue, but there is no need to fret. You have us to rely on,” He pulls her a little closer, relinking their arms together and with his other hand, fondly pats the top of her head. “All you need to do is to put your trust and faith in all of us to make it work,”

Annette quickly shot her head up. “Us?” She squeals, her voice pitched a bit higher. “Who’s us?”

The doors burst open, alarming them.

“Here we go,” Dimitri says in a soft whisper, and gives Annette a side-glance. “Are you ready?”

Annette gulps, her eyes widening like saucers.

This was it, the final stretch.

Here she was, at the end of the aisle, with Dimitri in tow, with twice as many rows as she could count, filled with many familiar people she could recognize instantly and others who were simply there to represent their noble houses and ranking. Her curious, blue eyes wander to the natural light of the sun illuminating through the ancient glass church windows, where the golden rays spread magically throughout the medieval-textured body.

Bright, orange Flowers brimming along with the white-colored aisle runner, showered with tiny pieces of orange and blue petals across the surface.

On each side of the wooden row was a decorative piece, a mix of blue and orange tulips and daisies—a reference to her and Felix’s iconic, complementary colors.

At the altar was none other than Felix, alone and enamored upon sighting her.

Locking eyes with his, Annette wanted to just melt right then and there.

In the back of her mind, Annette makes sure to keep a mental note to pay extra to Hilda for her fantastic job of designing the groom’s one-of-a-kind outfit (and styling it out to resemble a militaristic uniform, of all things! The devilish woman seems to relish of pushing her buttons, knowing full well of her secret liking to them)

Ignoring the burning sensation on her cheeks, Annette clears her throat as she goes on to inspect another group of people accompanying her lover.

Behind the podium was Archbishop Byleth, with Flayn standing close to her as the soon-to-be-married couple’s ring-bearer and Seteth close by, dutifully keeping close to a thick, leather-bound book.

Just when things couldn’t get any better, she finds another surprise awaiting her.

In every two to three rows, the men belonging from the Blue Lions, the Golden Deer, and the Black Eagles were closely stationed on her path. From a great distance, Annette could spot her Uncle doing his best to maintain his militaristic-like posture.

_Ba-bump._

_Ba-bump._

There it was again, her beating heart calling out to her.

A loud, piercing sound of the trumpet vibrantly in the cathedral, prompting many of the people sitting to rise up and look directly at the bride’s direction.

Annette hesitates, shrinking away. She could feel the intense staring and pressure as she was forcibly put into the spotlight.

Something nudges her on her left. “You ready?”

Listening to Dimitri’s soothing, low voice was enough to help her shake off her anxiety and focus on what she was about to embark on.

From the corner of her eye, Annette spots Dimitri’s comforting smile.

Becoming reminded of Mercedes’s breathing exercises, she takes this moment to inhale a whiff of air in. Exhaling it out, a natural smile slides in. She tugs on Dimitri’s elbow, reaffirming her confidence. “As I’ll ever be,”

The march to the altar was the most frightening part Annette had to endure in her life.

For the most part, Dimitri was able to comfort her, whispering encouragement close to her ear as they slowly made their way across. Once they’ve reached a certain point, Dimitri dismisses himself, kissing her by the hand, and then offering her to the next gentleman to lead her.

The friendly face of the royal guard, Dedue, appeared and like His Majesty before him, the gentle giant manages to easily slip into the role, linking their arms close as he boldly walks her down.

Ashe came next, reaching out to her with an earnest smile with Dedue bowing to make his exit known.

Then came Sylvain, who was quick to do a strange cha-cha slide, along with a playful wink. Exchanging smiles, the young silver-haired knight gives the bride a bear hug before quietly returning to his seat next to his friends.

One after another, more men approached her and took turns helping her down the aisle—Caspar rushing in to sweep her off her feet and practically carrying her in his arms, Linhardt shrugging and just simply strolling with her, Ferdinand being surprisingly light on his feet and humming a little tune for her to ease her worries, Ignatz and Rafael teaming up by each taking turns walking Annette down with her arms securely interlocking with theirs, then Lorenz intruding in and after gifting her with a plastic, red rose twirls her around before finally guiding her to Claude who was more than eager to take her off his friend's hands.

Little by little, the crowds began to cheer and applaud, humorously giving into their little skits.

From the sidelines, Annette easily spotted Bernadetta making strife with her performance on the trumpet. Surrounding her was a small band of musicians, seemingly in sync and performing an impressive feat. On the opposite side were the rest of the bridesmaids, dancing and singing to the beat of the music, with Dorothea, Hilda, Mercedes, Marianne, and even Petra singing to their heart’s content.

The supposed, mind-numbingly and boring ceremony was stomped to the ground as even the guests began working up a sweat as they joined in on the fun, clapping their hands and cheering on the entertainment.

Even the Archbishop looked impressed, quite delighted to see her former students having the time of their lives. And though Annette was still a bit far away from him, she could’ve sworn she saw the amusing, crooked grin plastered on his face.

Between her convulsive giggles and the room spinning a little, Annette felt more like her herself than ever. Gone were the feelings of worry and fear, but instead, happily embracing the pleasant, and familiar air akin to joy and nostalgia. If anything, this was a wonderful surprise, and she couldn’t help but wish to thank her friends who involved themselves in the act.

“So, whaddya think?" The young ruler of Almyra asks, eager to hear her thoughts of his input.

Seemingly out of breath, Annette turns to face the ever so devilish Claude and smiles. “Did you do all this?”

When Claude simply shrugs and gives her a knowing look, Annette beams. “I owe you big time,”

“Think nothing of it,” He assures her, spinning her one more time before dramatically bending down and planting a light kiss on the surface of her palm. “From your number one biggest fan,” He adds on with a sneaky wink. “Yours truly,”

Annette turns into a warm shade of pink but laughs it off nonetheless. As fluidly escapes from his hold, she goes on to meet the last man waiting for her near the two front rows.

“Uncle Antoine!” Annette greets him, almost too giddy.

At this, her Uncle shakes his head with a faint smile. “To think I would be the one to walk you down the aisle,” He starts, fixing her left arm with his right. Slowing their pace, Antoine turns to look at her, his infamous stern expression thawing. “I’m honored to call you my niece," He says to her warmly, closing in to peck her forehead through the veil. He switches his sights over to the altar, where Felix and Byleth were.

“You picked a wonderful man to spend the rest of your life with,” Antoine comments, smiling widely as he lets go of her as they reach past the borderline between the first few steps leading to the altar. “Go on. Your future is waiting,”

Annette sniffs, nodding meekly.

Breathing in, she finally sets her eyes on her beloved who looks back at her full of love and captivating wonder.

Once more, her heart was racing, singing for him.

It was now or never.

_Ba-Bump_

_Ba-Bump_

Annette tightens her grip on her wedding bouquet, determined to keep ascending on the new, marble stairs.

One step, two steps.

_Ba-Bump._

_Ba-bump._

This was it.

This was everything she could possibly want and more.

Three steps, four steps, five steps.

In a few more minutes, she would finally be with Felix, intertwine his hands with hers, exchange wedding vows and rings, and then finally, _finally_ , live the happily ever after she’d always dreamt of—

**“WAIT!”**

Annette freezes, eyes widening.

That voice. She knows it.

Ever so slowly, she turns around. Some part of her died at that very moment.

The man who she thought she might never see again, the one who anonymously wrote to her mere hours ago, claiming that to give her a sense of peace, he must leave...has appeared in the flesh, slightly winded and out of breath, fiery orange hair in disarray, and clearly on his knees.

Annette looks at him, at the person she calls her father, squarely in the eye.

And for once, he doesn't flinch nor looks away. He doesn't shun her nor tell her to leave her alone. For the first time in over fourteen years, Gilbert was finally looking at her.

Nobody speaks, and nobody moves.

All eyes and ears were set upon the father-and-daughter-duo, watching with bated breaths over what could possibly happen next.

“Dear Annette…” Gilbert croaks out, breaking the silence. “My daughter…”

He speaks to her with such adoration and Annette did her best not to break down and cause a scene. She needed to be strong, just like her mother. Right now, she needs—no, she deserves to be selfish. And maybe for once, she could be the one to ignore him, brush him aside, or walk away.

But…

“I’m so sorry...for all the things I’ve done,” Gilbert sobs, hiccuping. “You deserve so much more from me…”

Luckily, the veil was helping her mask away the emotions overwhelming her. And yet, she couldn’t help but wish—wish that he would have apologized to her like this sooner inside her dressing room, rather than running away and later barging in unexpectedly when she is seconds away from reuniting with her husband-to-be.

“I know I’ve been horrible to you...and that I put all the stress and pressure on your Uncle, your mother, and yourself…” Gilbert goes on, “This whole time...I’ve been running away. I still do, even now. And I’d admit, it is unforgivable...and that you don’t need to pardon me of the mistakes I’ve made…”

“But...I want to make things right, starting today,” He looks up to face her, ever so resolute. “I want to make up for all the things I’ve missed...and for all the words I’ve said to you...ignoring you, and pushing you away when I shouldn’t have…”

Gilbert’s ragged breathing went cold, and he shuts his eyes. As he goes on to open his mouth, a pair of warm arms envelops him, shocking him. Cracking his eyes wide open, he looks up, his heartbreaking.

“I forgive you…” Annette whispers into his ear, burying her face against his orange, disarrayed, plop of hair. “You should know...that I’ve forgiven you long ago...and I still forgive you even now…”

Gilbert sobs, coiling his arms around her and holding her tight.

“I love you, Papa,” She admits, slipping in the honorific she used to give to him when she was a child. “And I still do, you know…”

Withdrawing away, Gilbert offers her a sorrowful smile. He shifts his red, puffy teal eyes from his daughter to the groom looming over him. Though he expects a murderous glint or a streak of jealousy on the latter, what he gets instead enlightens him—softened, half-lidded amber eyes, hovering over with a rare, and genuine look.

A look that’s awfully close and well-known from the late Rodrigue.

That look of forgiveness.

Another try, a _second_ chance to make this all right again.

A large hand reaches out, belonging to Felix who keeps quiet.

Gilbert accepts it, rising from the stairs with Annette following after. Back on his feet, he fixes his gaze at Annette, then at Felix, and then back to Annette.

With the ghost of a smile, he fishes something out from his pocket. Keeping hold of the mystery item, he uses his other hand to gently seize his daughter’s name, intertwining hers with the groom’s.

Both Annette and Felix widen their eyes, staring at the veteran knight in bafflement.

Though his expression remains unreadable, his prideful smile was visibly present.

He gives them a nod, sneaking the mystery item into their hands.

And just like that, he takes one step back, his eyes never once leaving them as the pair exchange looks and together, walks together to the podium where the Archbishop awaits.

As Annette and Felix finally settle into their respective spots, Gilbert quietly ushers himself to join his brother and wife on the right-wing of the front row. He smiles, tightening his straight, thin lips as he weakly nods to them both, and twirls his heels around to refocuses all his attention to the main couple.

Who would’ve thought that in the blank odd years, his only daughter and Rodrigue’s second son would go on to find each other in this cold, cruel world, stay close, and bring out the best in one another? Oddly enough, they truly were a perfect match.

Like the rest of the audience, he watches the whole scene play out with such adoration, chuckling as he catches a glimpse of the groom wordlessly calming down the bride—(from the looks of it, it seems she was reacting appropriately to the mystery item he bestowed to her), and leaning in to kiss what he suspects are tears leaking down her face through the veil. And though it fails, it manages to make Annette dissolve into a fit of giggles.

At this, a wide, toothy smile splits across his lips.

A small hand shyly snakes its way on his, and Gilbert turns, surprised to find his wife wearing a lovely smile. Gilbert mirrors her own, enclosing her hand with his and wishing to never let go.

Once more, he looks onto the bride and groom and as the Archbishop gestures a hand, the whole crowd, including Gilbert, quietly sits down.

Once more, he looks at the bride and groom. Smiling faintly, he cranes his head to look at the chandelier hovering above them, blinded by the sheer, natural light of the sun’s reflective rays. He closes his eyes briefly, feeling somewhat at peace and fulfilled.

In a soft, low voice, he mumbles a soft prayer, “Protect my little sparrow and her chosen knight,” Reopening her eyes, he checks the main couple one last time, his smile unwavering. “May their road ahead be blessed with a lifetime full of love and happiness…”

* * *

The ceremony goes by slowly and yet swiftly. Byleth drones on and on about the prosperity and the blessings about marriage as Annette squirms in her pinchy shoes. She’s reading the traditional wedding admonishments, but Felix rolls his eyes at her every time something particularly profound or earnest is read, and she has to pretend like she’s wiping away tears to stifle her laughter behind her veil.

But finally, Byleth rattles to a stop and turns to them, smiling a little at the way they straightened guiltily, almost like they were back in her classroom again.

“You two, it’s time.” She says quietly.

Annette’s fingers tighten over Felix’s. His gaze meets hers—dark, soft, warm. In the crowd, Mercedes stifles a sniffle.

“Do you, Felix Hugo Fraldarius,” Byleth asks slowly, pronouncing every word distinctly, “take Annette Fantine Dominic as your lawfully wedded wife, to love, cherish, and protect until the Goddess calls you home?”

Annette gazes up at Felix as he murmurs, a little too softly for everyone else to hear, “I do.” He takes the ring that he had presented to her months ago, slipping it onto her finger with almost impatient tenderness. Annette sucks in a deep breath and wills herself not to break down.

Byleth turns to Annette, her star-touched gaze thoughtful and kind. “Do you, Annette Fantine Dominic, take Felix Hugo Fraldarius as your lawfully wedded husband, to love, cherish, and protect until the Goddess calls you home?”

Annette beams through a film of tears and laces up at Felix as she declares fiercely for the entire audience to hear, "I do!" She fits his ring onto his own hand, fumbling a bit from her tears, and Felix has to help her before she drops it. 

“Always so eager.” He murmurs at her, and Annette huffs big enough to blow her veil out from her mouth. “Hush.”

Byleth smiles a little at that, reaching forward and grasping their hands with her ringed ones, threading them gently together. “Then by the power gifted to me, I pronounce you husband and wife.” As the Archbishop lets go, her smile turns into a grin. “Now please kiss each other.”

Sylvain wolf-whistles loudly, and the shrill note ends with a choked grunt as someone (presumably Ingrid) elbows him hard in the side.

Felix’s mouth turns downward, but before he could shoot Sylvain a scathing glare Annette tears off her veil, scattering pins everywhere, and grabs his face in her own, kissing him so deeply that he stumbles backward and has to clutch at her bodiced torso for balance. She can feel his lips soften to meet hers as the entire audience erupts into cheers, standing and clapping hard enough to make the church shake.

There are flowers being thrown, music being played, and explosions of light magic showering them with golden dust, but all Annette cares about is the sensation of her husband’s— _her husband!_ —hands around her waist and his lips on hers as the world shrinks to accommodate only the two of them in this golden moment, giving and taking until there was nothing left to say.

* * *

They left the reception fairly early.

Claude had lugged in a disturbingly large tankard of some very dark brew that smelled like burnt metal and debauchery barely ten minutes into the event. Annette and Felix bid a hasty retreat once Sylvian began to warble a very raunchy song while stretched out on one of the tables, and only when the doors slammed shut behind them did Annette allow herself to burst into a fit of laughter.

“I think you had too much to drink.” Felix feels her forehead and Annette curls into his touch like a needy cat.

“You smell nice...” She says stupidly.

Felix snorts, burying his face in her hair. “So do you,” He murmurs in her hair, then adds with some mischief, “ _wife_.”

Annette promptly squeals, flushes up to the tips of her ears and attempts to swat him. "You can't just say that Felix! I'm still getting used to it…”

“Surreal, right?” He says through a mouthful of her hair. The intricately woven updo will fall apart any second and she won’t really care.

“Yeah.” Annette buries her head into the collar of his fancy attire and breathes in deep. He smells pretty nice himself.

“Ow!” Felix says.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Annette pulls away instantly, “Am I squeezing you too hard?”

“No,” Felix replies just as quickly, but he reaches between them and extricates her father’s gift from inside his coat pocket. “This was just digging into me a little.”

Annette takes the gift that her father had given her from Felix. “Thanks for keeping it safe, darling.”

As Felix stammers and blushes at the unexpected nickname, she runs her fingers over the intricately carven statuette, marveling at her father’s craftsmanship. It’s probably his best work yet; the details put into the little hands clasping, the way the wooden swordsman leaned into the smaller lady and became one….she’s going to cry all over again.

“I still can’t believe he was able to come.” She sighed, running her nail along the graven whorls and curves. Felix peers at it over her shoulder. “I’m glad he did or otherwise I would’ve hunted him down.”

“ _Felix_.”   
“I know.” He says, a tad grumpily. Annette gives him a forgiving kiss on the cheek.

"I wish…" Felix begins and then trails away.

She puts a hand on his forearm, gentle. “You can tell me.”

He looks back down at her, and it’s a sharp and aggrieved expression all at once. “My old man would’ve wanted to see this.”

Annette’s heart clenches. “I’m sorry.” She says softly.

He ducks his head. “I....” Felix looks back up, his eyes glinting in the late afternoon glow. “Do you want to come see him?”  
Annette’s hand stills on his arm. “Are you sure?” Her voice is a breath, concern coloring the edges of her voice.

Felix breathes in and exhales slowly as if he's gathering courage. "Let's do it."

They had buried Rodrigue in the monastery’s graveyard that evening after the clash at Gronder Field.

They didn’t have the time to cart the body all the back to the ancestral grounds of the Fraldarius territory, and it made sense at the time to bury the duke at the place where he had found his happiness with Lambert and others in a golden age long before Felix and Annette’s time.

Felix hadn’t had the energy to protest against much of anything at the time; he had been too numb, too dulled by the heavy blow of loss to make proper arrangements like an heir should've. But for now, he is grateful that it takes only a short visit from the cathedral to the graveyard.

“Do you need a moment alone?” Annette asks, but Felix shakes his head.

Nodding, she links her hand through his as they descend the stairs to where Rodrigue’s body lay in the soil. The sun is just setting, and rays of ochre tinted light are streaking across the clean headstone where the deeply carven etchings are just beginning to green with moss.

Felix has to clear his throat several times before he’s able to talk without sounding like he’s on the verge of tears. “Hey, old man. It’s been a while.”

The gentle evening breeze stirs the many folds of Annette’s dresses and the furred lining of Felix’s hood in the answering silence. She squeezes his arm for encouragement.

“So, I just got married.” Felix continues, talking a little fast, a little short. “The boar walked Annette down the aisle. Gilbert had enough decency to show up at the last minute, so I wasn’t too mad.”

Annette’s fingers dig a little deeper into his arm and he winces. “Sorry, sorry.”

Felix takes a deep breath. “A lot of people attended. Too many for our taste, really, but most of them are our friends so I didn’t mind so much. Sylvain was an ass as usual, but Ingrid kept him in check. Byleth married us...Annette’s wearing Mother’s old ring.”

Annette flashes the deep green gem at the headstone. It’s been refitted so that it sparkles perfectly from her slender fingers.

“It looks—” Felix’s voice catches. “It looks really good on her.”

His wife rests her head on his shoulder.

“We left the reception early.” Felix continues. “I know that you would’ve lectured me on propriety and all that, but people started getting drunk, including my lightweight of a wife-”

“I’m not that drunk!” Annette protests.

Deadpan, Felix turns to her, holding up two fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Annette squints. “Four.”

Felix turns back to the headstone. “As I said, Annette is drunk. You would love to see it.”

He ignores the snort from beside his elbow.

A beat of silence passes.

Felix finally takes another deep breath and lets it out. “You...once told me once how Annette’s would’ve been good for me.” Annette looks up at that, but he’s rambling now. “You..were right, for once in your life. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you that night. You were...perceptive. I wish...I wish you were here to see us at the very least.”

A gust of wind swirls Annette’s white skirt around her ankles as she gently lets go of his arm to lace her fingers through his reassuringly. He’s trembling, but his voice gives nothing away as he bows his head very slightly to the headstone. “That’s all, old man. I’ll take care of our territory, and of Annette. I swear it.”

He steps away. Annette looks up at him. “Is it alright if I say something?” She asks in a small voice.

Felix cocks a curious brow at her but nods nonetheless.

Annette takes the few stems of white roses that she’d filched from one of the floral arrangements on her way out of the doors of the cathedrals and spreads them reverently on the stone.

“Take care, Lord Rodrigue," Annette says earnestly. "Thanks for being so nice to me the few times we've talked, and for helping me learning Abraxas, and for comforting me that time when I got really upset after that conversation with Father in the cathedral-"

“He did what-”

“And I just want to say thank you.” Annette smiles at the headstone, aware of her husband’s surprised gaze boring into the back of her head. “We had a really pretty wedding, and I really love Felix too. I’ll take care of him too, and make sure he doesn’t stay up too late or work himself too hard. I’ll help him with restoring your territory, and I’ll do my best to make it as grand as it used to be.”

Annette pauses, her voice softening. “Felix really loves you, you know. He won’t say it aloud since he’s a big grump, so I’ll just say it for him. We’ll try to visit often, okay?”

She gives the flowers a last pat and straightens, smoothing the creased folds of her gown. Annette turns to Felix, taking his hand again. “Do you need any more time?”

"I think…" Felix searches for the words but then shakes his head. "No. I think this is enough."

“Okay.” Annette threads her fingers back into his own. “We should head back to the reception or they’ll think we’re consummating or something.”

“He’d like that.” Felix snorts, glancing at the headstone as if his father was standing there with that familiar expression of smug knowing on his face. 

“We’ll name a son after you!” Annette calls to the headstone as they ascend the stairs leaving the graveyard.

“Middle name _at most_.” Felix corrects her. “Didn’t you already promise Claude to name a son after him?”

“I thought we promised Sylvain that.” Annette blinks confusedly.

Felix shakes his head. “We promised Sylvain that he could be godfather. I still don’t know why I agreed to that.”

“Because you didn’t want Dimitri to be godfather.” Annette reminds him as she slips her cramping feet out of her pinchy shoes, picking up the white heels and happily wriggling her freed stockinged toes on the ground.

“The lesser of two evils," Felix mutters as he takes the shoes from her. 

Annette smiles and reaches up to plant a placating kiss on his cheek. “I love you, you know that?”

Felix immediately softens, like butter in the sun. The sound of celebration begins to reach their ears as the guards open the heavy doors to let them back in.

His hands full, he settles on kissing her, full on the mouth this time as the hall erupts into cheers at the sight of the returned newly-wed bride and groom.

“I love you too.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

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